


Tortured by Fear

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky's relationship with his trauma issues, F/M, Gen, M/M, a one-shot, before Watson the Service Dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23884609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: Rogers is away with most of the team on a mission.  Barnes struggles with sleep and a trauma-anniversary that he does not fully understand.  He wanders into Sam's room and while dissociated he attempts to reenact sexual abuse he experienced while in HYDRA's custody.  Natasha is summoned to assist Wilson and is forced to confront the same trauma-anniversary, but from her point of view.
Relationships: Avengers as family - Relationship, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Watson the Service Dog and his Partner-in-health, Bucky Barnes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758628
Comments: 1
Kudos: 50





	Tortured by Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Please tread carefully if you may be triggered by *rape, sexual, physical, emotional abuse, dissociation and general violence, grooming behaviors and mentions of torture. 
> 
> These topics are personal to me and I use writing as a therapeutic medium. Trauma-anniversaries are common for people with C-PTSD. For me, my body remembers these days annually well before my brain makes the connection. I hope everyone is staying safe and well. 
> 
> For the record this one-shot takes place before Bucky obtains Watson the Service Dog and they begin working as a team.

***

“You will comply.” Pierce growled, biting his neck. 

Blood beaded at the wound, the body shivered. 

“Tell me you need it.” His handler thrusted against him, yanking his hair. “You need me.” 

An order. Automatically, the words formed and fell out of his mouth. 

He lifted his head a fraction of an inch off the floor and counted eight pairs of knees. Knobby, skinny legs. The Widow trainees, once children, now numb weapons like him. Run. He wanted to scream. His body tore and for a second the pain blackened his vision. 

I will comply. I will comply. I will comply. 

***

Footsteps shuffled along the carpet. Without being awake, Sam reached for the baseball bat leaned conveniently against the bedframe. His fingers gripped the wooden handle. “Whostherewhatdoyouwant?” He mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

The lack of answer or movement led Sam’s eyes fly open. Darkness reflected back at him. “What the hell?” Wilson asked, letting the bat drop to his side. 

A figure dropped to their knees in front of the Falcon. 

“Ready to comply.” The man held his hands out in front of his body, fists pointed down in a position similar to being handcuffed. Flashes of POWs during his time in the military slammed to the front of his mind. 

“Bucky? What the fuck?” 

The man’s head bowed, his hands on his waist. He fumbled with his pajama bottoms and before Sam could process what was going on, the man he knew as James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was nude and laying facedown at his feet. 

Sam’s favored protective piece of sporting equipment dropped to the carpet. His mouth fell open in shock. He eased himself back onto the bed, cross-legged, watching Bucky carefully. This was not a usual episode, not a seizure, not aggressive, he was out of his element. Finding his voice, he accessed Stark’s AI. “JARVIS, where’s Rogers?” 

“Good evening Mr. Wilson; Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark, Mr. Banner and Miss Maximoff are on a mission in Germany. They have met their objective, and should be planning a route back to the tower within the next couple of hours.” 

“Great.” Sam blew out a breath. “Ah, I’m gonna turn on a light okay?” Wilson waited for a response, but receiving none, he flicked on the bedside lamp. 

The soldier on the floor shivered, in the sudden light the man’s hands clasped behind his head, his fingers tangled in his hair. The posture screamed submission and Sam knew what sort of torture it insinuated. 

“Need it, need you Pierce.” The man gritted his teeth in pain, his discomfort at whatever he was remembering heightening in intensity. 

“Pierce.” Sam’s brain caught up to the one English word that the man on the floor spoke. “Oh shit. JARVIS where’s Natasha. I need her, now.” 

“Certainly sir.” Silence descended as the AI presumably contacted her friend. Miss Romanov would like to know if you require any other assistance?” 

Sam hugged a knee to his chest and shook his head. “Nah, just her Widow-self will do.” 

The figure on his carpet shuddered, a shadow of the man Sam knew being tortured by years of abuse his mind had barely began to process. 

***

“Miss Romanov?” A disembodied voice cut through her fragile sleep. 

She startled awake, hand yanking at the cuff attached to her bedframe. The other still touching the Stark Pad, various security feeds pulled up on the screen. Reviewing video footage in real time often comforted her during bouts of insomnia. According to the time display, she had been asleep for a grand total of 54 minutes. 

“Miss Romanov, Mr. Wilson requests your presence in his rooms.” 

“Why?” She eased her grip on the knife while forcing herself to look around her room. Ghosts of her nightmares faded as she focused on the tangible furniture in view. 

JARVIS continued. “According to security footage from the elevators and hall cameras, Mr. Barnes appears to be experiencing a dissociative episode. Similar instances have occurred in Mr. Rogers absence before.” 

“Is he hurt? Is Wilson okay?” Natasha’s stomach clenched. The AI’s casual reference to Steve’s last overnight mission brought waves of anxiety upon her. James, her James had tried to sever the prosthetic from his tortured shoulder with a butcher knife. He had been convinced he’d killed her and Steve. 

“Both are physically fine.” JARVIS answered. “Would you like to view the footage?” 

“No.” She snapped, her mind providing her with images of her time in Red Room. Her body tied to beds, a camera always recording every punishment. Over the years, she’d come to realize that this time of year caused her to fall apart. Barton usually stayed with her, made sure she ate, slept and showered regularly. However, his family succumbed to the flu and he was holding the farm together until everyone stopped puking. 

Natasha threw on one of Barton’s sweatshirts, pulled her hair into a knot and ran towards the stairs. 

***

“Wilson.” She stood just inside the doorframe. “Where?” 

The man leapt off the bed and started towards her. “Thank god Romanov, this is way above my VA experience.” He gestured to an area beyond the mattress. He wiped at his nose, trying to mask the tears. 

Natasha nodded at her friend, and tiptoed towards the bed, her hands itching for a weapon. The sight that greeted her was not unfamiliar. It mirrored her own history in a confusing swirl of memories that simultaneously felt real and completely impossible. 

“Ready to comply.” The man on the floor strained against an invisible force, he struggled, his fingers knotting at his scalp. Natasha’s hand hovered above James’s back. She knew better than most how painful touch could be. 

“James. It’s Natalia.” She whispered, rocking back on her heels, just out of reach in case he reacted violently. 

“No. Only you.” The man murmured robotically. “Pierce. I need you.” 

Natasha glanced at Wilson, standing by the door. The chances of James reacting violently were low, but he would need privacy once he came out of this flashback. “ETA on the team’s return?” 

Sam shook his head and pointed at the ceiling. “JARVIS says they won’t leave for another couple hours.” 

“Just, hang back in case we need you.” 

The ex-soldier shifted his weight and moved to guard the door. 

Natasha turned her back to Wilson and all of her Widow instincts screamed at her to guard the vulnerable door and person looming behind them. 

“He’s not here James, you’re safe. No one is allowed to touch you without your permission. Remember?” 

James shuddered and tensed his shoulders. “It’s not real, it’s never real.” 

Natasha lowered herself to the floor, so close to James their noses nearly touched. His eyes stared through her, not actually seeing her. 

“James, look at me. Can you see me?” 

“Natalia.” He blinked. 

“Yes.” She smiled. “Tell me five things you see.” 

“You, water bottle, baseball bat, charging cord, book.” The names of the items felt odd rolling off his tongue. 

“Good.” She praised. “Now can you tell me four things you hear?” 

“You.” He repeated in Russian, slipping back into the chaos of his mind. 

“Bucky.” She tried, her pinky lightly brushing his forearm. “James.” 

“Nothing feels real anymore Natalia.” 

“I’m real. You’re real. Can you feel this?” She gently tapped an index finger on his arm. 

He hummed along with her tapping, a comfortable silence enveloping the duo. 

“Where? Natasha?” 

“Hey there.” She continued tapping out the rhythm of a Sinatra tune they liked. “Are you with me?” 

The man nodded. He squinted at his surroundings and groaned into the carpet. “Please don’t tell me I’m naked.” 

“Okay. I won’t tell you.” She sprang up without a sound, tossing the discarded pants in his direction. 

“Wilson?” 

“It’s all good man.” The ex-soldier waved from his post at the door, turning his back to the duo. 

James tugged on the pants and stood. “May I?” He slurred slightly, his balance wavering. 

Natasha gripped his elbow and forced him to sit on the mattress. “Easy Barnes.” 

“Where.” He pressed fists into the sides of his head. “What?” 

“You are safe, James.”

“Natalia, you have to get out. Go.” He shoved her away, eyes wild. 

The sudden act threw her off balance and Natasha slammed into the nightstand. 

“Nat?” Sam asked, taking a tentative step inside the room. 

“Stay back.” She answered. Natasha switched to Russian and dropped to her knees. “James, do you trust me?” 

“Of course, Little Spider.” He replied, relaxing his grip on his scalp. “But it’s not safe. I will take the punishment.”

“Punishment.” She echoed, folding her hands in her lap, spine straight as a pin. 

“Punishment. For failure. Mission failure.” His shoulders spasmed uncontrollably. “Get out!” His voice rose in volume and he lunged for her. 

***

Natasha startled, flashes of their shared history dotting her vision. 

“Hide.” He growled. “Now Natalia.” Blood dripped off of his metal prosthetic as the fingers clenched into a fist. He was coming for him, the little spider needed to remain safe. At any cost.

Dozens of HYDRA soldiers swarmed the room, cocking their weapons at the Asset. 

“Mission report.” 

Cold snaked through Natalia’s insides. The voice made her feel fear, fear was not allowed. Yet, this man’s voice triggered a terror so consuming she could barely draw a breath. 

The Asset remained silent. From her vantage point, Natalia watched two soldiers’ step towards her mentor. 

“Now, now, aren’t you going to behave for me?” The Handler chuckled. “Stand down. Leave us.” The dozen men dropped their weapons to their sides and exited the room. 

Her mentor whimpered as the Handler caressed his face with a hand. “Mission report Asset.” The sound of a slap echoed in Natalia’s ears. She winced, empathy rising in her chest. This punishment was her fault. She had hesitated in executing the target’s children, it had led to their presence being discovered and a media frenzy at the hotel. 

“Ready to comply.” The Asset wheezed, his throat pinned to the floor as the Handler straddled his body. 

“Good. You are mine. Your failures are mine. This is what you deserve, what you need.” He yanked at the Asset’s pants. 

The Asset remained silent. 

Tears trailed down Natalia’s face as she watched her mentor be punished for her failure. 

***

“My fault, it’s my fault.” Natalia’s hands tingled with a lack of oxygen, her breathing bordering on hyperventilation. 

James’ prosthetic on her back. She flinched at the contact, but managed to look at him. 

“Did I want it?” She ripped James’ arm off of her back. “It was real. I thought maybe…so much doesn’t make sense.” 

“No.” He firmly answered. “Did I? Hell, anytime I try to untangle anything my brain gives me a seizure or twelve. Time, memory, it’s all jumbled.” 

“Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.” Natasha quoted the infamous 10th Doctor. 

Bucky looked at her quizzically. “Another pop culture reference I don’t understand.” He sighed. 

“That we can fix.” Sam aimed a remote at the TV. “Those seasons are my favorite.” He selected an episode of Doctor Who and beckoned the duo to the couch. 

Natasha smiled at her friend, grateful for his ability to honor the private moment between two old, traumatized ex-assassins. She liberated Sam’s comforter and wrapped it around her shoulders like a cape. Bucky settled on the couch, his arms wrapped around his knees. Wilson tossed him an afghan and pressed play. 

They settled into a comfortable silence, Natasha braiding James’ hair as he dozed in her lap. The emergency medication dulling the flashbacks enough that he could safely rest. Sam’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks hugged a pillow to his chest. He quoted most of the dialogue in this particular episode, taking the occasional moment to explain a character’s backstory or reference. Natasha let her mind drift, bits of memories real or fabricated washing over her. Pain and an emotion close to grief 

“Thank you, Little Spider.” James murmured in Russian his eyes still closed. 

Through the numbness clouding her thoughts, a small part of Nat’s heart swelled in pride. Shame quickly swallowed the positive feeling as Madame screamed at her for having attachments. 

“Amazing right?” Wilson tore his gaze away from the screen and grinned at Natasha.

She gently carded her hands through James’ hair, undoing the loose plaits. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive.” Natasha and James had survived, against all odds, they were real. Wilson had become more than a fellow Avenger in the last six months. Sam did not fear her, even after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and the world saw all the blood she’d shed over her lifetimes. He smiled as the iconic Doctor Who theme began to play. 

Natasha let herself return the expression, it was possible that Madame was wrong. During the failed yoga sessions, she’d subjected herself to with Bruce he tried to educate her in mindfulness. To connect is to be human, attachments mean you’re living. Natasha had refuted his argument, pain had always grounded her. Any other emotion was extraneous. She judged herself to fall somewhere in the middle of these extremes, grief and memory crashing against her mind, while simultaneously enjoying her current company in the shadow of British television.


End file.
